Here's a funny story to brighten your day a little:
When I was married, my husband would go up to NJ a cpl of times a yr to see his mother. She hated me so I didn't go, LoL. Well on one of his trips I decided I was finally going to replace the toilet seat. One of the bolts had broken and it was sliding all over the place. Now I had never done this before but I thought "how hard can this be, men do it all the time". So off I go to buy one. I get home with it. I need to take the other bolt out in order to get this seat on. But nothing I tried worked, no I'm not blonde. So I thought I'll just pry it off! I go out to the garage and get the biggest screwdriver Craftsman even made. I'm straddling this toilet like a cowboy on a stallion. I'm prying and prying. Nothing. Then I hear this cracccccckkkk. I look down and this commode is falling away like a blooming onion! Water starts pouring every fucking where! I reach down to turn off the water valve and it's rusted shut! So I go to the kitchen and get a saucepan and stick it under the bobber thing and stopped the water but by this time it's made it's way to the hallway carpet. It's 5pm on a Fri afternoon. I call my plumber and did catch him. I tell him this story and he is laughing his ass off. "Dave I need a toilet" He says well what kind do you want? "How about the kind that will cover up this 2ft hole in my floor" So he sends his guy out and I finally have a working commode.
That night my husband calls. So I tell him this story. He isn't laughing. As a matter of fact the line was totally silent. Then finally he says in his dry Jersey humor, "Exactly how much did this little stroke of independence of yours cost us"? I said, when you have a 2ft hole in the floor, does it really matter??? We never spoke of it again.